Oblivious to the Obvious
by Identity
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle. New world one man super power. Sexy as all hell. Harry Potter. Catboy morph. Sexy as hell. Deayva Thornbecket. ID's OC. Natural born hellbringer. Put it all together. Chaos. LVHPTMHP Mansex Humor
1. Ch 1: Dance Floors are Enticing

**Oblivious to the Obvious** (Un-Betaed)

**Rated:**NC-17

**Pairings:** LVHP/TMHP

**Warnings:** EXTREME MAN SEX!!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!!

**Disclaimer:** Aside for Deayva, my OC, I don't own anything that you might recognize and pay money for. If I did, I'd be rich. But I'm not.

**Note:** This is kind of a random little thought that I had. Don't hate me. I'm still working on my other ideas, I'm just kind of at a road block. Forgive any grammatical errors. I'm not perfect ya know. And if any other the names are miss spelled of information is wrong, please alert me and I will fix. Thank you!

* * *

He couldn't look away. 

There were so many others around him, in various states of dress and undress, all dancing rather suggestively,

But Tom just couldn't look away.

The way his pale body moved and swayed with the heavy beats against the cold metal poll (he fucking hated that poll). The way the sweat clung desperately to his sweet form, creating a hypnotizing sheen over the already tantalizingly smooth skin. The way his silky black triangular ears would twitch with his silky black tail at just the right times. The way the scarce amount of cloths would be stripped; piece by agonizing piece till all that was left was a pair of skin tight black shorts and a small black collar. The way his eyes were closed and his mouth was open in a silent sound of bliss made him utterly delicious. Even the way he breathed, unheard over the masses of bodies between them and the loud background music, seemed somehow to make Tom's pants even more uncomfortable than they already were.

He couldn't bring himself to look away.

The only thing he could think of was how that delicate body would look underneath him, panting and moaning out his name as he familiarized himself with every curve and every sweet spot and how the younger would feel, warm and tight around his length, screaming out in pleasure with every single movement of his body.

If he could just…

"My lord?"

…

Damn it.

Damn it all to hell and back.

"What do you want Lucius?" he said. Even over the music, he could hear and be heard clearly, thanks to the charms placed over the balcony. He sighed, turning his eyes away from the demonically sinful angel on the dance floor below. He inwardly smirked when he saw the blonde shiver with fear. Serves the prat right.

"Um…M-my lord, Cornelius Fudge is here." Tom violently squelched his urge to roll his eyes and stood, making sure that none of his earlier_excitement_ was left.

"Ah! Mr. Fudge! How wonderful to see you again!" he said, putting on a fake smile and held out his hand, again willing himself not to take away said hand and smacking the pudgy man with it, then desensitizing it with acid.

"It is an honor Lord Voldemort." Fudge bowed and gestured to the seats.

"I trust that everything was to your liking?" Tom smiled (fake). He had been helping Fudge with a bit of dirty work to ensure the man's standings in the up coming elections. Of course, Tom Marvolo Riddle was flawless, so none of the dirt ever got traced back to his doorsteps. He was the perfect tactician and the perfect representative. Not only was he smart, but he was quick and sexy to boot. The man could fool the Sphinx into eating its own tail if he had to, and he was charming in public, and in private. In other words,

Number one guy from hell.

He could destroy a high standing company in a week and he could bring a country to its knees. How the hell else do you run a small time slave trade and teach defense against dark arts in a school all while seducing wives and blackmailing politicians all in the time span of about 24 hours (he's done it before on many occasions). With his silky black hair that fell to his shoulder in waves, his sinfully crimson eyes, his amazing anatomy (as in god was very generous), he could seduce himself a throne (he tried, but then he got a bit bored, so he left that plan…a year later, the country became a barbaric wasteland).

And, of course, that's why he was here.

"Yes! Yes! My ratings are better than ever! You truly are the greatest Lord Voldemort…however…" Tom, who had let his eyes wander back to the wiggling piece of eye candy on the platform, turned back to the man before him.

"Oh? What seems to be the problem?" Tom smiled casually, betraying his wishes to strangle the fatty.

"Your fee seems a bit outrageous don't you think? I mean for a bit of sabotage, 5000 galleon?" So that was the bugger's idea. He wanted to wager. He wanted to show that he had some form of power against that all feared and none opposed.

That bloody git.

Well.

This time,

He didn't hold himself back all that much.

With a smile and a graceful flick of his wrist the metal floor underneath Fudge form a spire that flew upwards…

…right between his legs…

Now if it were a bit to the left, he would be missing a leg and if it was a tad closer to him, he'd be dead.

To say that the fatty was scared was a bit of an understatement.

"My fees are never negotiable. It is either you pay me in full, so you turn out like dear old Padoria." Tom's usual smiling façade was completely washed away, leaving only a dangerously handsome face with a pair of red eyes that could, and have, killed.

"W-who's P-pa-padoria?" The fat man stuttered out. Tom fell silent for a second before his deceptively charming smile came back in full bloom.

"Exactly." With anther flick of his wrist, the metal spire shrunk back down to the ground and he could practically _feel_ the relieved sigh coming from Fudge.

…

Eww.

"I-I apologize for any disrespect sir." The man stuttered as he cautiously removed himself from the chair, eyeing it warily as if it would sprout teeth and chew off his limbs at any given moment, which, if Tom willed, it would. But he figured the man was in enough trauma for one day. With a wave of his hand, the man was sent scurrying down the stairs of the balcony, through the swarms of people and out the door (in a guise of course).

With a sigh, Tom leaned back in the red suede chair and let his eyes wander back to the dance floor below, only to find that his one little slice of heaven was out of sight. A scowl made itself apparent.

"Lucius." He called. The blonde man was faithfully at his side in a breath.

"Yes my lord?" the man bowed.

"Bring me Deayva ((**Dee**-ay-va)). I wish to speak with her." The man bowed again and melded back into the shadows to find the club's owner.

The club was a very simple, yet wildly elegant night club. It was where all assassinations, conspiracies, coups, and drug deals were planned. It was very roomy, thought outside it looked like nothing more than a small, uninviting coffee shop. It was charmed, however, so that no one who didn't already know of it would find it. Inside, there were two levels. One level was the dance floor level. It contained, obviously, the dance floor, which was lit up from the bottom. The lights periodically changed colors and supplied much of the scarce light in the building. On the dance floor were four small raised polled platforms on which the poll dancers would dance (Tom's eyes had been glued to the body on the nearest poll). On the far side of the first level, farthest from the entrance, was a bar that was also lit from the inside by a bluish tinted light. On either of the club, behind the tables and chairs, were dozens small, hidden rooms that can only be seen an accessed if you were holding the key to the corresponding room. Those were sound proof and spelled rooms where the plans were made along with sex and any other thing people felt like doing in private.

From either side of the bar were two curves staircases that led to the second level, which consisted of a balcony that overlooked the dance floor. There were a multitude of small, self lit tables on the edge of the balcony, as well as many booths that were set further back, away from the edge. All in all, it was a very simple club in design, but somehow it attracted many guests.

"What's up Tommy?" Tom visibly twitched at the nickname and at the woman who said it. The woman, Deayva Thornbecket, looked about 15, but that was just when she was turned.

She's 1784.

Deayva was the owner of this club, known as NitenGayl, as well as many other clubs and bars, so she always knew what went on in the underground world. The vamp had long black hair (long as in knee caps long) that was currently up in a high ponytail at the crown of her head. Her eyes were dark blue, almost black, and the angrier she got, the lighter her eyes got (one time, they turn light blue, and a city was nearly demolished…pray to never see them when they're white). She had an average body, with an average height and less then average features (a little flat chested), but she never minded about that. All the better for fighting with, she said. Can't have them jiggling around all the time.

Of course, being a 1784 year old vampire that looked 15 had its upsides. For one, it made her highly inconspicuous and always underestimated, and she always got away with everything (_everything_). She loved it when she went into a fight against an overly confident 235 pound man and sent him away in tears with a mere glance.

And of course, she was the only one who would ever call the infamous Lord Voldemort by his muggle name…and got away with it.

"Stop calling me that."

"Grow a dick and I might." The vamp unlatched herself from Tom's neck (where she was clinging just a second ago) and plopped herself in the seat across from him, to used to the damages he inflicted on her furniture when he was there to care about the gaping hole in the cushion. She could get that fixed later.

Tom growled.

Deayva chuckled.

"So. What was it that you wanted to see me about oh 'Great Lord of Darkness'?" Deayva said in a mocking tone.

"It's 'Great _Master_ of Darkness' thank you very much!" Tom shot back, crossing his arms in a superior manner. "And I was wondering about one of your…exquisite dancers." Deayva's eyebrows rose up on her smooth forehead.

"Oh? You've taken a liking? And here I thought you were asexual save for those who had you any benefit." The vamp casually crossed her legs and lean back, throwing both her arms behind the back of the seat with a smirk.

"This one does have a benefit." Again Dea's eyebrows went up. "Even I need to relieve some sexual tension every now and then, and I'm afraid the overdone concubines and whores who throw themselves at my feet are too…loose for my liking. And no. I'm not asexual." The surprised expression stayed for a moment before it mellowed out and the vamp chuckled.

"So my dear Tommy, which one do you have in mind?" she asked, leaning forward with a sort of 'I know something that you don't' expression. Tom disregarded the nickname with a growl and pulled out a thought (wandlessly of course) and let the silvery translucent piece drift over to the vamp. She caught the thought with a flicking motion and it seeped into her skin. She was silent for a moment as she processed the thought, then a grin broke out on her face, which quickly evolved into a full blown smirk.

"What?" tom asked, arching an elegant eyebrow. Deayva shook her head.

"Nothing. It's just a figure that you would choose him."

"Oh. So he is one of yours." Tom asked.

"Of course. As if I'd let that delicious little piece of sex dance on this floor without owning it." Tom stared at her, silently signally to go on. "He's a newbie named Harry. Fresh out of training and yet so many customers already after his fine little ass."

"Training?" Tom asked worriedly. He hoped that didn't mean what he thought he meant. As if reading his thoughts (she probably did), Deayva explained.

"He's a virgin. When I said training I meant he was trained how to dance and how to serve and such. He's yet to be touched." She explained, clearly amused as Tom sighed a breath of relief. "He's very obedient to people he likes, but he refuses to serve those he dislikes, and so far, he hasn't taken a liking to anyone, so no one has been able to touch him."

"I see…But wouldn't you normally break him into complete obedience by force?" it was not uncommon for slaves to be rather defiant towards their status, and most of the time they would be beaten broken into submission, so it's rare to see a slave who has yet to be fully 'trained'.

"Normally, we would, but he is a special case Tom." Deayva's eyes wandered over the dance floor. "Harry is a very fiery spirit, something that is valuable and rare amongst slaves. He's bitten more than a fair share of my trainers and he has escaped every single beating unscathed, so I've taken extra precautions as to ensure that he retains his passion. It would be such a shame to see him broken." Deayva took a serious breath, all traces of humor washed away…that lasted for the better half of a second.

"Besides! You know I'm a softy for the cute ones!" She turned back to Tom with a smile and a snigger.

So far, Deayva was the only one who Harry would allow near him, so they've developed quite a bond. Deayva has personally taught him everything, and she was proud to announce that the boy could send the priest to hell for debauchery with a single bat of an eyelash. She's verbally explained the workings of sex, and delighted herself in finding out what various shade of red the boy could invent. For someone who nearly exuded sin through his pores, Harry was surprisingly innocent when it came to the matters of sex. The one time Deayva had him sit through a course with two of her other male slave (he was watching as she explained everything) he nearly fainted of blood loss.

And yet the boy could seduce like no other.

He was a rare one.

Tom sighed and Deayva chuckled again (she liked to chuckle. Got a problem with that?), and reached out for the young boy with her mind. She's bitten him once, and once a vampire bites someone (doesn't have to be a virgin) they can speak to each other through telepathy. After two bites the victim will become like a slave. After three, the victim becomes a vampire.

'_Harry dear. Are you busy?'_ Harry, who was trying to get his complicated uniform back on (he could strip it, but he couldn't put it back on), was a tad bit startled and would've jump had he not been used to it.

'_Nope. Do you need me?'_ He asked.

'_It would seem that a customer has taken an interest in you.'_ Harry rolled his eyes. This wasn't something new to him. Ever since he started on the floor, countless of customers have requested him either for a night or as a slave. He's yet to say yes.

'_Dea…'_ he whined.

'_Aw come on! This guy's one of my good buds. Besides, I think you might like him.'_ Harry growled at his custom. Half and hour and he's gotten no where.

'_But what about my cloths?'_ He was not about to go out there half naked. He actually had to be escorted off the poll after his performance for fear of people abducting him and raping him in the massive sea of flesh and bodily fluids.

'_Oh just throw on a white shirt or something. I really don't think he's going to mind all that much.'_ Harry sighed and threw his costume in a corner and picked up an extra large white button up collar shirt. It was large enough to reach a bit past his finger tips and went halfway down his thighs. Compared to the rest of the people out there, he was the most decently dressed.

With a determined puff, he made his way out of the employ's locker room.

"Hey! Harry! Another guy after your ass?" Asked the bartender. Bill, a tell freckled young man with long red hair tied at the nape of his neck, worked there in the weekends. Weekdays were spent dragon wrestling. Bill was in charge of keep the dragons away from humans whenever they would wander to close to civilization. He found out about Deayva's underground dragon wrestling a few years ago and he was appalled at first, but then he came to realize that those dragons were bred to fight. If they didn't have their share of a good time, they would go mad and run rampant, attacking randomly and killing on sight. Ever since he came to terms with that, Bill started working for Deayva as a dragon keeper and a wrestler. He still upheld the normal dragon protection jobs too, he just found a darker side of him that just loved to get down and dirty. Bill was the only other person who Harry could stand to be around. He was nice and all, but he was young and full of the need for sex, so Harry diligently stayed away.

"You know it. I just hope it's not another fat man cause I don't think I can pull up another fake smile for the rest of the day." Bill laughed and wished Harry good luck as Harry climbed the staircase to his right.

Time to face doom.

* * *

**Ending notes: Fear teh cliffeh.**

PLEASE REVIEW!!! I am lonely[cries

No really. I want to know if you liked it. Did you like it? Good bad or something?

Anyone wanna be my beta?


	2. Ch 2: Nature vs Fire

**Oblivious to the Obvious** (Betaed by **Alfsigr**)

**Rated: **NC-17

**Pairings:** LVHP/TMHP

**Warnings:** EXTREME MAN SEX!!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!!

**Disclaimer:** Dudes. Do I look like a own the mind of a mega movie making writer's head? No! Not really! Okies? Dun sue meh.

**Note: **I've gotten rather addicted to this story line, so I might be updating this one more. So until I get more reviews for TOF, I won't really be working on it. 8 reviews folks. Just 8. makes a writer sad ya know? And mucho thanks to my buddy, Alfsigr for helping me Beta this. You are just too awesome.

* * *

It wasn't so hard really.

Just go meet the customer, put on a few smiles, turn him down and go back to work.

That was all to it. He's been doing it for what? Two weeks now? Yes. Two weeks. Ever since he started working. Deayva actually started thinking about moving his poll to the middle of the dance floor and have the other three form a triangle around him so that he would become the main attraction.

But really,

The very simple, aforementioned routine was not something he made a point to practice, but had somehow gotten exceptionally good over the past 14 days.

And yet this time,

He just couldn't pull it off.

And there was nothing all too different about this man. Sure he was absolutely gorgeous, but a lot of men who sought out his company were very good looking and some were just down right breathtaking (save for the occasional fat guy who's really lonely in bed for obvious reasons), but their beauty had never affected him before. He's turned cold shoulders to the finest men and women, and this man was indeed one of, if not, the best who has requested him, but that wasn't why Harry stopped breathing.

Somehow,

The exact moment that their eyes met; the exact moment clear emerald orbs met blazingly hot rubies, Harry's lungs stopped working and his heart ran double time, almost as if all of the tiny breathing workers in his body decided to take a break and kick the circulatory system into over drive. A slightly chilling, yet slightly pleasant tingle flittered from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his tail and back. He felt like it was dipped in molten lava, red hot and on fire.

Never in his life has he ever felt this way.

It was almost frightening.

In the background, some randomly minute part of his brain registered the fact that the pair of scarlet eyes where wide with something akin to shock, and that the owner had taken a small gasp of air. In the background, he registered his boss's silent amusement lingering over the cloud of mist and scentless smoke. In the background, far, far into the background, he registered the unbearably deafening bass beat of the new techno song that was playing.

He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but at the moment,

He couldn't really care.

* * *

Tom stared into a pair of deep, liquid green pools and his own eyes widened in shock. He had thought that the attraction was nothing more than a lust for his body or an attraction towards his charm,

But goddamn he was wrong.

He didn't want to breathe nor blink for fear of washing away the curious pulling that had suddenly overwhelmed him. From afar, he could not see the raven's eyes, but now that they were up close and personal, he almost wished that he hadn't seen them. They sucked him in like a whirlpool sucking in a small sailing ship, or, more accurately, the charm of a succubus sucking in her latest drunken prey. His lithe body was covered only by a large over sized t-shirt (which Tom wanted to curse to oblivion right now) and his hair was slightly tussled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed after a _very_ interesting night.

Oh. Now don't take it the wrong way,

The sensations that were currently riding through his blood stream were surprising, yes, but not unpleasant. It sent pleasurable tingles throughout his being, shocking his nerves and making them more sensitive to his environment. He was suddenly aware of the way his little kitty's face, smooth and flawless, turned a shy pink color. He was aware of the bass beat thumping in his ribcage along with his heart, which was hammering away at its own tempo. He was aware of the heavy amusement that was being exuded through every single pore of his vampire friend's body. He knew he was never going to hear the end of this one,

But at the moment,

He didn't really give a bloody Mary.

The only thing running through his mind at that moment was how to make the pretty boy moan…and how to breathe. ((It's a Spongebob thing))

* * *

She was amused.

Oh-ho-ho was she amused.

She was expecting some sort of reaction as the two sexiest beings in England, perhaps Europe (screw that probably the world), met each other face to face.

But not something like this.

She could actually _feel_ the Magic twining itself through their bodies, affecting them each differently. She'd never experienced a mating bond before, but she'd been around when others have and none of them were this strong.

Harry's eyes had gone wide with shock and Deayva was pretty sure that he stopped breathing at one point. His face was a light pink, and she was sure it would get darker once she started talking (and gods know she will). She could hear his pulse double in speed and it made her go crazy with the urge to feed off of him. If she hadn't been so fussy over him, she would have no doubt sunk her teeth into that delicious neck many times. His blood was amazing. It was thick and sweet and full of such unimaginable raw power that it made her high for days. She didn't need to feed for that following week. It was like sin was flowing through that boy's veins.

Little Tommy wasn't doing much better. His normal façade was completely gone, leaving him with the sort of expression that Dea got to see only rarely and normal people never got to see at all. His red eyes, which were normally under a glamour to make them look less noticeable in the crowds, were blazing right through it. Dea always thought it was a pity for Tom to hide his eyes; such a proud crimson color that could bore itself through the soul and cut a man with just a fleeting glance, yet he _insisted_ on not killing people with his branding gaze while walking around town for groceries.

She was about to get rich.

"So Tommy, I'm guessing that you like our little kitty." She could barely hold in her giggles when Tom and Harry both snapped out of their dazes (rather violently she would add) and swung their heads to her so fast she was afraid they might get whiplash. Tom instantly threw his seamless, 'holier-than-thou' face back on while Harry (blushing) tried his best to disregard his embarrassment and lust in favor of glaring (pouting) at the vampire.

"Deayva. You know I don't like it when you call me that." Harry's right ear twitch just a little bit in annoyance and self control. Not that Tom was noticing of course.

"Oh come on kit. You can't deny that fact that you are a demi. Why, even a blind muggle can spot that adorable tail of yours." Harry's glare (pout) grew more potent. He didn't like that fact that he didn't know how to suppress his appearance. No one ever cared to teach him that. Even before he came to NitenGayl no one even considered him to be alive…

But enough of the depressing.

We are here to see gay loving, so back to the railroad track ((ABN: Now normally people would just say get back on track, but ID had to be stupid for a second.))

It was true. His ears and tail were very much visible, and had become quite the asset when it came to seducing information out of fat, thrill-seeking politicians and businessmen. Dea promised to teach him how to hide them later, after all of his training was done, but from the looks of it, she might not be able to.

"What's his price?" Tom asked. Strait and to the point.

"Price?" Deayva asked, innocently raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I'm talking about Dea." Tom was getting a little bit more annoyed than usual. Normally, he could tolerate the ancient; but currently, he was sexually frustrated and the most orgasmic body in the club was standing about four feet away from him like a piece of dangling meat in front of a starving wolf.

He was starting to loose it.

Now Harry, who knew far to well where this was going, did not appreciate the fact that these two humans (?) were negotiating his value as if he were a pretty antique vase going up for action.

"Just a minute. I never said anything about going with you." He said, crossing his arms over the large shirt and glaring (pouting) at the black haired stranger.

Tom wanted to rape the kid.

"And who are you to deny me that?" He shot back, rather pleased at the shiver and blush that attacked the boy's body at the sound of his voice. Harry recovered quickly, though the blush was still there.

"And who are you to go around owning people?" Harry was totally losing it.

"I'm the most powerful wizard in England that's who I am." Tom stood from his seat, still rather frustrated at his pants (you know what I'm talking about).

"Nu-uh! ("Real mature Harry") The most powerful wizard in England is Dumbledore, who is a really old guy with a long-ass beard and creepy blue eyes that strip you naked whenever he looks at you, so unless you're that geezer in disguise, which is kind of gross, I don't think you're all that important."

Ok.

Now a few things ran through Tom's mind.

'_I can totally kick Dumby's ass'_

'_His beard is freakishly long'_

'_I am not a creepy child molester. I'm just a molester in general.'_

'_Harry's ears twitch when he gets mad.'_

'_When the fuck did the bag of muggle candies ever eye-strip my Harry.'_

'_I just thought "My Harry" didn't I?'_

And most importantly.

'_I want to fucking screw his ass right now.'_

Little did Tom know how intensely spooked our little Harry was when he saw the evil, seductive, manipulative, and slightly arousing glint in the elder's eyes.

"Well than!" Dea said, again drawing attention back to herself. "I see that you two are getting along nicely. (Harry stuck his tongue out at Tom while Tom thought of better things for said tongue to do) I understand that you Tom, are in desperate need of a hot bit of ass (Tom grinned) and Harry, this is the first time you've held a conversation with someone other than me or Bill without causing them bodily and/or mental trauma ("So it is"), so it goes without saying that you two are very fit for each other."

Tom looked (gawked) at Harry.

Harry shyly glanced (studied) Tom.

Both reached the same conclusion.

"_**I definitely want to bed him."**_…or in Harry's case, be bedded by him…

Not that he would ever really think that…I mean psh! He's not that great looking…

…Cept for his seductive voice…

…And his long, silky hair…

…And the way his ruby red eyes were screaming 'Mine!' every time he glanced at Harry. Yeah. Harry wasn't noticing any of that.

Deayva glanced from one boy to the other (to her, they were both still boys) and nodded to herself.

"It would definitely benefit the both of you if you got together…

"However…" Both males turned full attention to the vampire, whose fingers were laced in front of her lips in a very ominous manner.

"I cannot allow the two of you to be together."

* * *

**End Notes: **Yes. I did it. I left you a cliffie. Why? Because apparently, a nice, normal, non-cliffie ending does not spur people into review for a desperate, deprived little writer who feels off the reviews (positive or negative, at this point, it does not matter much) of her readers. So please. Won't you review? For all of the starving writers around the world (or at least for this one?)

[Clickie the button


	3. Ch 3: Merchants

**Oblivious to the Obvious** (Betaed by **Alfsigr**)

**Rated: **NC-17

**Pairings:** LVHP/TMHP

**Warnings:** EXTREME MAN SEX!!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!!

**Disclaimer:** Dudes. Do I look like a own the mind of a mega movie making writer's head? No! Not really! Okies? Dun sue meh.

**Note: **I've gotten rather addicted to this story line, so I might be updating this one more. So until I get more reviews for TOF, I won't really be working on it. 8 reviews folks. Just 8. makes a writer sad ya know? And mucho thanks to my buddy, Alfsigr for helping me Beta this. You are just too awesome.

* * *

**Previously:**

"_It would definitely benefit the both of you if you got together…_

"_However…" Both males turned full attention to the vampire, whose fingers were laced in front of her lips in a very ominous manner._

"_I cannot allow the two of you to be together." _

* * *

Normally, Tom was a very pleasant guy. Normally, he was a very charming ladies man. Normally, he would never directly harm a female in any bodily manner.

Normally, Tom was not a bundle of raging hormones threatening to throw all hell to the sky and ravish adorable, black-haired, green-eyed cat-demis.

So

Keeping that in mind

Please do not be shocked that he currently had both hands wrapped rather tightly around a certain thousand year old vampire's neck. It wouldn't kill her of course, vampires didn't need to breathe, but it did cause her a good amount of discomfort and it did prevent her vocal cords from functioning correctly.

Now, a few things happened in succession.

Deayva started flailing…

Which caused her foot to land on a chair…

Which caused the chair to flip into the air… ((A/N: …I made a rhyme…))

Which crashed into a table…

Which sent the table top flipping up…

Which sent the drinks on the table flipping up…

Which landed.

On Tom…

And Harry…

Now picture this:

Tom is a bag of rampaging testosterone while Harry is an alluring little submissive who oozes pheromones. They are both soaking wet. Harry has a large _white_ shirt on.

Cat-boy pheromones wet white shirt sex deprived underworld overlord.

Yeah.

Can we all say _erection???_

* * *

Tom sat calmly in his chair in one of the private, first rate rooms on the dance floor level. He let his body relax in the emerald green couch that he was laying on, his head falling back onto one armrest while his feet rested on the other. He was exhausted, mentally and physically…but mostly mentally.

After the drinks had thrown themselves rather generously over Tom's and Harry's bodies (Dea was miraculously dry), the two were ordered into the backrooms to get dried off before they could talk. Tom's generous 'gift' did not go unnoticed. Harry flushed a very deep red color when Tom turned full body to him, and Tom was pretty sure that more than one person gawked at his bulge as he walked into the staff room (some redhead at the bar gave him a 'nice job' look and gestured at Harry). Tom didn't mind though. He always thought that if you had it, flaunt it.

Now the interesting part has yet to come.

Once in the room, Harry, still soaking wet, _very_ quickly stripped off his clothes after turning away. This gave Tom a very nice view of his very _naked_ backside. This caused Tom's 'places' to twitch and his nose started to gush blood all over the floor. Harry, understanding this reaction after the last few times he'd met with a guest, flushed even darker (was that possible?) and quickly proceeded to KO Tom via fist to face. Surprisingly, the young boy was strong. Harry then ran into one of the lockers, which evidently served as an emergency escape route that was only accessible by a magic password (that Tom did not have).

Grudgingly, Tom forced himself into a cold shower (which he located in locker number 256), dressed himself in the black silk robes handed to him by a stuttering house elf named Topp, and was escorted into the room he was in now by another house elf named Tipp. It had been more than half an hour since he arrived, which gave him time to calm down from his hormone high and contemplate what had happened.

Sure he's met many beings that were dazzling, but never had he experienced something so intense. The want – no, the need – to fuck the green-eyed beauty into every single piece of furniture and in every single possible (and perhaps some impossible) positions drove him so far off the deep end that it actually dented his perfectly honed stoic mask and forced him to do things that now seemed so insanely out of character. Something was definitely up. He doubted that it was a potion or charm. Only Snape could produce something of the like, and the last time one of his concoctions found its way to the digestive system of the Dark Lord, well, let's just leave that to history. He knew for a fact that no one, not even Dumbledore himself, could cast a charm that powerful, let alone successfully cast it on Tom. If it was some sort of prophesy, so help him he would go back in time to _Crucio_ Merlin until the fart was **dead**. That meant that there was only one possibility left, and the authoress, being the evil little twit she is, will not be informing the readers of said possibility until later in the story.

Just as Tom's brain was starting to develop a horrible migraine from the thinking and something else he couldn't put a name too, Deayva (that little Satan spawn) and Harry (who was blushing glaring (pouting) hiding behind Dea) walked into the room. Tom instantly snapped himself from the couch and stomped his way up to the master vampire.

"I demand to know what the hell is going on." He said, the venomous voice accompanied by a death glare and a fisted shirt on the side. Being alone with his life-long acquaintance (friend) and the boy he intends to screw into the next decade, he didn't have to plaster on his 'cool face'. Dea, with a very happy (evil?) smile, swatted off Tom's hand from the front of her shirt and took a seat on the chair next to her. She gestured for both Tom and Harry to sit as well, and being that her chair and the couch were the only two pieces of seating furniture in the room, they both sat on it, Harry pointedly keeping himself as far away from the 'uber-pervert' as possible.

"Okay. So I'm guessing that I have questions to answer?" Dea asked calmly.

The rockets set off.

"Why can't I buy Harry?" (Tom)

"Why do I have to be bought?" (Harry)

"What did you spike my drink with?" (Tom)

"Did you charm my ass again?" (Harry)

"Did you sneak into my dreams again?" (Tom) (Referring to that one time when Dea snuck into a little dream bubble Tom had and screwed his mind over for the next decade.)

"Why do you keep trying to sell me?" (Harry)

And of course,

"_**Why the hell are you smirking like that???"**_ (Both)

Keep in mind that all of this was very amusing for the hell raising devil child.

"Okay. Okay." She started, her hands up in front of her in a 'calm down' gesture, "I understand that you both have your questions, and I'll try to answer them." No. She's not really going to try. She'll just answer the ones she feels are worth answering.

"First off, I honestly don't know what the hell is going on between the two of you." Harry and Tom looked at each other. "It feels like a mating bond, but different." Tom's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He never agreed to a mating bond and he was sure as hell his parents couldn't bond him to a boy who was born after their death.

"How so?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Well-"

"What's a mating bond?" Harry asked. Being raised in a very strict, magic-detesting human squib family did not do much for his wizardly knowledge. Even after the merging of the wizard and the muggle worlds, there were still many who resented the opposing side.

"A mating bond is a bond between two people who are to be wed in the future. It is normally placed on them at birth by their parents as marriage arrangements, though there are some who use the bond to become closer to the ones they love, because not only does it tie together their minds, but also their magic, which makes them nearly impossible to break from the outside unless due to extreme circumstances." Dea explained. Harry nodded and fell silent.

"So how is it different?" Tom asked.

"I'm not sure." Dea answered. Her chin met her palm as her elbow met the armrest of the chair, her brows knitted together pensively. "It just feels too powerful to be a bond like that. It could be a Celestial bond…but that would require the two of you being born on the same day at the same time within a hundred yards from each other." Dea fell into her musing for a second, leaving the room in blissful silence before Harry's boredom and utter confusion got the better of him.

His right ear twitched with annoyance and his tail flick impatiently against the couch.

"Bonding-shmonding aside, I think there is a more immediate matter at hand." Tom turned and Dea looked up with a snap of a neck.

"Why the hell do I have to go with this pervert?" Harry yelled, pointing an accusing finger to the man beside him.

Tom stared at said finger, wanting to take that digit into his mouth…then slowly kiss his way up that delicate arm…then over the curve of his shoulder…then nibble at the soft, inviting arch of his neck while he mewls-

"Tom!" Tom whipped his head up and away from the demi-cat cutie to turn to the resident pain in the ass.

"Stop thinking. You know what it does to you." The resident pain ordered. Tom huffed and turned away. Dea, happy with the results, focused once again on the fuming little Harry.

"Anyway. Go on Harry."

"I don't want to be sold Deayva!" Harry whined. "I don't want to be raped to death!" Harry's ears flattened down a bit and his tail came to curl itself around his waist, as if it provided him some sort of protection…which it didn't.

"Oh come on Harry! It won't be that bad! Besides! You're going to have to loose your virginity some time. Why not to the underworld one-man super power?" Dea offered jokingly as a statement of comfort. Harry obviously did not appreciate it seeing as how he grabbed the nearest object (being a very _firm_ piece of fruit) and hummed it at the vampire with (yet again) a surprising amount of force, causing her to flip back and over her chair, which followed her and flipped back. Tom winced in sympathy, having experienced Harry's abnormal strength for himself.

"_I REFUSE TO BE A PLAY THING FOR MR. LIBIDO!!"_ Harry screamed, the fur on his ears and tail sticking out from annoyance. Deayva crawled up from the ground holding onto her bleeding nose and righted her chair.

"I understand this Harry; I really do, but…" Dea took a moment to re-situate herself and wipe away the quickly drying blood from her upperlip.

"But what?" Harry snapped. Tom, though completely infatuated with the young boy, kept his tongue. He didn't want to die young. Deayva suddenly became rather serious, surprising the two other occupants.

"As you know, there have been many people who have requested your company Harry (Harry nods, Tom scowls), but you don't know how many." Pause. "46 Harry; 46 people have approached me personally about you, and many more have inquired through other means."

"What the hell does that have to do with Harry's ownership rights?" Tom asked. Deayva sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment.

"This is a petition for Harry's auction, to be taken place in exactly one month."

* * *

**Ending notes:** Short? I know. And I've made a decision.

I have left you a cliffie.

I have turned on anonymous review.

I will not be posting more until I know for a fact that this project is indeed worth my time.

I will be writing the chapters, yes, but I will not post them until I deem this story worth it.

The fates of cat-boi Harry and bishie Tom are in your hands now readers.

_R.E.V.I.E.W._


	4. Author's Note

I will keep this short

I will keep this short.

I don't have a Beta, so until I get one, I will not be posting (or writing) anything new.

So I will now announce that I will be looking for a new Beta. If you think you have what it takes, PM or email me.

**I ask that you are**:

Good with grammar

Good with plot/character development

Available to review within one week

Detailed with your reviews

Well versed in the events, characters, and other trivia of your selected series

And most important…

A HARDCORE YAOI FAN OuO!

**What you would get in return**:

Sneak peak as to what the story will entail before everyone else

A ability to lend ideas to the plot and have a say in the movement of the story

Um…that it…

So if you are interested, please contact me quickly.

**Info that I need**:

What series you are very knowledgeable in (list all)

How well versed you are in the workings of man-to-man sex

How hard you are able to take

What you consider sexy and what you consider is not (e.i. incest, bondage, threesome, etc.)

Thank you and have a nice day.


	5. Ch 4: Life is like a Rollercoaster

**Oblivious to the Obvious** (Betaed by **Alfsigr**)

**Rated: **NC-17

**Pairings:** LVHP/TMHP

**Warnings:** EXTREME MAN SEX!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!

**Disclaimer:** No.

**Note: **OK. I got a new beta who edits a bit differently than I'm used to, but eh. That does not mean, however, that the position is closed. I am still looking for potential Betas for my Naruto stories and possibly for this one, because I might nee more than one beta. Please see the Author's Note one chapter back for details.

* * *

**Previously:**

"_As you know, there have been many people who have requested your company Harry (Harry nods, Tom scowls), but you don't know how many." Pause. "46 Harry. 46 people have approached me personally about you, and many more have inquired through other means."_

"_What the hell does that have to do with Harry's ownership rights?" Tom asked. Deayva sighed and pulled out a piece of parchment._

"_This is a petition for Harry's auction, to be taken place in exactly one month."_

* * *

This time…

Tom got to sit back and watch.

"_**WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN 'AUCTION' YOU DEMON-WOMAN?!**_" Inner-Tom wanted to applaud the evil aura seeping from little Harry's body.

"Pl-please Harry! L-let me ex-plain!" Deayva gasped, and as an anime weenie, the author must point out the little soul bubble that was floating out of Dea's mouth…

Deeming the explanation more important than the death of the damned she-devil, Harry let go of Dea's neck and sat back down, glaring (pouting) rather loudly (O.o) at his employer.

Dea wondered who the hell taught him to swear like that.

"I guess you never explained to him the aspects of the auction system in the underworld have you?" Tom asked. Dea scratched the back of her sheepishly.

"Yeah…I guess not…" Tom sighed and hung his head. This boy was way too ignorant to be performing in a club of this magnitude. He's a virgin, he's innocent, he's very feisty, and he doesn't know a thing about the underworld system.

Makes him even more fuckable.

"Auction system?" Harry questioned. He was still rather livid about being auctioned, but he _really_ wanted to know what the hell is going on. I mean really!

There's a system to the dystopia of the Underworld?

O.o

"Yes Harry. Auction system." Dea started. She sighed. This is going to take a while.

"When I first started my business as merchant, I had to take an oath. The oath was originally created during the unification period. Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw, the peacemakers of both the Underworld and the Overworld, decided that to keep the balance between the two, a compromise must be made."

"You see Harry," Tom inserted, "The four peacemakers knew that there was no way that one power could suppress the other, so they agreed that so long as each side keeps to its own code of conducts, and the codes to not clash with each other, than there will be no reason for war. The codes have many different sub-codes, such as ones for wand-makers, apothecaries, and merchants, and each of those categories can be further subdivided, similar to the workings of a guild."

Dea nodded.

Harry twitched.

"I took the oath of the slave merchants, and a part of it states that if ever a petition is made for a certain slave, depending on the amount of signatures and the time in which the signatures were added, different actions shall be taken.

"For example, if a petition is signed by ten different people within the span of one month, I have a choice to turn down the petition so long as no more signatures are added in the next three months. In your case, a petition was formed out of 46 signatures within the time span of two weeks, and the oath states that if a petition has more than 30 signatures over the time span of one month, the merchant has no choice but to set up a public auction exactly 29 days after they receive the petition.

"So you see Harry, it's not like I want to sell you, I really don't, but the code doesn't give me a choice." Deayva was, for once, sincere with her words. Over the months of training and working, she's come to see the boy as a younger brother (she will never publicly admit that), and it would absolutely break her heart to see him in the arms of a pig of a man who will probably mistreat him. She would feel much better if Harry were too be bought by Tom. At least then she could visit him at her leisure (Tom will hate that)

"So…you're saying that I have to be auctioned? I mean…there's no other way to get around this?" Harry's ears drooped and his tail wrapped itself comfortingly around his waist. He really didn't want to be 'owned' by another person. He highly doubted that he would be treated nearly this well as Dea has.

Dea nodded, solemn for once, but then perked almost instantaneously.

"Although I can't stop the auction from taking place, I can almost guarantee that you will be happy where you end up." She smiled pleasantly, and Harry and Tom could've sworn that there was a pair of demon horns perched on top of her head, right beneath the half-falling, blinking halo.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Harry pouted. Dea just gestured happily towards Tom.

"He is one of the richest men in England, and if nothing goes wrong, I'm sure he can outbid anyone that enters the auction room."

Tom smirked confidently and remained silent. No need to be redundant.

Harry pouted once more.

"I never said that I wanted to go with him." He blushed and looked down at the dark green carpet, his tail twitching back and forth between his fingers.

"Oh?" Tom turned to Harry with an unreadable expression. "Then I'm to guess that you would prefer going with, say, this guy?" he flicked his wand and a semi-translucent image of a fat man, balding man, known to the club as Sir Porge Defiere.

Harry visibly cringed.

"Though so." Tom waved his wand again and the offensive image vanished.

Dea clapped her hands together and smiled, a fork sticking out of her mouth. Apparently she'd gotten herself some cake while Tom and Harry were preoccupied with each other.

"So it's settled. Within 29 days I will thoroughly prepare Harry and teach him the dance that he will be performing at the auction, and Tom will be making sure that he is the highest bidder at the auction."

Harry groaned. Preparation didn't really appeal to him all that much, especially since all of those who were auctioned off never came back, so no one knew what is meant to be 'prepared', and even less knew how to 'perform'. He just hoped that he didn't have to do something humiliating like strip naked in from of a crowed of men with deep pockets and big appetites. ((A/N: Can anyone else smell the foreshadowing?))

Tom smiled.

In 29 days, Harry would be all his. In the back of his mind he wondered how the frustrating infatuation with the boy grew so uncontrollable in the time span of a couple of hours.

* * *

_Harry whimpered under his strong, red gaze. He heard a light chuckle and Harry shivered. 'God that laugh'_

'_You seem tense Harry' he whispered softly into Harry's ear. His tongue quickly followed his words and came out to flick the lobe, before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently making Harry whimper again._

'_D-don't tease me!' he pouted, trying vainly to resist the sensations that were quickly overrunning his senses. His partner pulled back a little to let his ruby red eyes roam over the exquisite being before him. Harry turned away with a blush, but it did little to wash away the tingles and the tremors that racked his body. He chuckled again._

_Suddenly, Harry gasped as he felt something slide into him. His ears flattened against his head and his tail thrashed against the silky black sheets. The graceful, pale finger moved slowly, letting Harry's body get used to the feel of having something inside. It was not unpleasant as the initial shock gave way to pleasure and lust. Try as he might, Harry couldn't help but let out a small sound as his body willed itself into moving._

_Another finger was added, and this time, Harry screamed louder. The pain and the pleasure mixed together to send electric shocks up and down his spine. The digits thrusted into Harry's body with care as to minimize any discomfort. Harry's back arched away from the bed as the fingers stretched him and prepared him for something larger._

'_Ah! T-To-__**AH**__!' something inside him was reached, blurring his mind, making his nerves all flare with life at once and muddled his thoughts with white hot pleasure. He heard another chuckle._

'_Did you like that Harry?' Harry could do little more than nod._

'_M-more! Please!' Harry begged, any shred of dignity was thrown out the window and across the street. At the moment, the only thing he could think about was the way those two digits manipulated his body into a puddle. The fingers did as directed and brushed up against that spot again, causing Harry to scream out. His head was thrown back as his body rose off the bed. His tail thrashed more violently against the bed. The fingers inside him picked up speed, building up the pleasure and the tension, and suddenly, they were gone._

_Harry whimpered in loss. _

_There was another chuckle._

'_Don't worry Harry. I've got something better.' Harry's eyes widened as he felt something throbbing hot and hard press itself against him._

'_Are you ready?' He asked._

_Harry gulped and then nodded._

* * *

He whipped himself out of bed so fast that he nearly fell to the floor in a mess of flesh and blankets. Realizing that his virginity was no longer in danger, he flopped back onto his pillow, his arm coming up to shield his eyes from the harsh light that streamed through the window.

It was the third time that week that he'd dreamt of…_that guy_. Each dream was so violently vivid that sometimes, Harry was afraid of falling asleep.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he mused out loud. He laid there for a few minutes, trying to forget what he'd just seen. Eventually, when the late afternoon sun was to warm for him to be curled up in his pile of blankets, Harry tumble out of bed and groaned.

'_More laundry'_ he thought as he stumbled his way to the adjoining bathroom to take a very cold shower.

* * *

Tom once again found himself on his bed, glaring little holes into the ceiling. He'd lost count of how many times he would dream of holding Harry; of screwing him into the mattress until the euphoria made him loose his mind, only to wake up with either an arm full of air, or an armful of a hopeful maid. In the 29 days since the talk of Harry's auction, Tom was absolutely forbidden to see Harry. The boy even stopped performing. Dea said that it was due to the special auction ceremony. She would be the only person Harry would be allowed to see for the next 29 days.

Tom repressed a snarl.

Apparently, the 29 day grace period was for preparation of the slave. Most slaves were already experienced in bed at this point in their lives, so in order to make them more desirable for the customers, spells were cast to ensure that the slave looked and felt like a virgin all over again. After the…_'re-virginizing'_ process, the slave was kept away from the public to make sure that they don't accidentally loose it all over again. If that were to happen, the 29 day period would start all over again.

Because Harry was already the virgin, no spells were cast, but he was still forbidden to the public until the auction date, and that made him extremely frustrated, especially sexually. He refused to fuck any of the women offered to him the past couple of weeks. He was planning to save himself for the mind blowing night of intense sex they were going to have once Tom got Harry into his bed. He was quite confident in the fact that he only needed one night to make Harry all his.

He licked his lips in anticipation as he got out of bed and headed to the shower, hoping to god that the hot water was broken.

* * *

Deayva bit her lip in annoyance piercing herself with her fully extended canines. She didn't notice. In fact, she couldn't notice much anything. She didn't notice the fact that she'd just bit her way through three metal forks, nor did she notice that her nails had carved rather deep gashes into the wooden table in front of her.

This was horrible!

This wasn't supposed to happen.

True, Tom was the richest man in Europe, but indeed not the world. There was always someone out there who was a little less trustworthy in their trade who had more zeros in their bank total. Yes. There were plenty of men who were richer than Tom Riddle, but Deayva had not anticipated their appearance at the auction.

Now one of them was coming.

Her now blood red eyes scanned and rescanned the document in front of her. It was a formal letter directed to her announcing the arrival of one of her older business partners. They had been colleagues many years ago, before Dea had started following the Underworld Codes, but their dealings came to an immediate end as soon as she realized the weight of the Codes. He belonged to the Overworld, but he did not follow the Overworld Codes, nor did he follow those of the Underworld. He was powerful, wealthy and dangerous, and now he was coming to Harry's auction.

Deayva could only hope that his interest in Harry was a fleeting humor.

"Tipp." She called out. A pop was heard and a house elf appeared by her chair. "Get me the Big Bottle."

If she was going to tackle this bull crap, like hell was she going to tackle it sober.

She left the room and tossed the letter in the fire.

_My Dear Dea,_

_It has been far too long for this to be a lengthy note, so I will keep this short. I will be attending the auction of one of your feline demis, Harry. News of his exquisite beauty has reached even my ears and I simply must see for myself how adorable this creature truly is. I am hoping that all past disputes may be displaced for this one auspicious night. I am looking forward to his presenting performance. _

_With due time,_

_Devion Rezell of Lords_

* * *

To Be Continued…

**End Notes:** So. How was it? Still like it or no?

Sorry this one was shorter...


	6. Ch 5: Setting the oven

Harry sighed

**Oblivious to the Obvious**

**Rated: **NC-17

**Pairings:** LVHP/TMHP

**Warnings:** EXTREME MAN SEX!! Almost rape…AND MORE MAN SEX!!

**Disclaimer:** …Really. Think about it for a moment. Have you seen a sexy, nose-bleed inducing, guy-on-guy book with wizards and kinky snakes? No. No you haven't.

**Note: **Um…Here. Enjoy. **POLL AT BOTTOM.** Read it.

* * *

Harry sighed.

Today was the day.

In just a few hours, he would lose the last few freedoms he had. He would become a piece of property. He sighed again and glanced out his window. From the second he woke up, he was confined in his room. Dea refused to give him a reason why, simply offering him a lazy grin and sauntered out of his door in a daze, barely dodging the doorway in the process which proceeded to vanish shortly after her departure. Harry caught a slightly coppery scent from her, and deduced that she broke into the Big Bottle. If Dea had to get drunk to get through the day, something was definitely wrong, and the fact that he was under house arrest did not help squelch his worries.

It was now one in the afternoon, and Harry was about ready to throw things at his should-have-been-there door, which was currently an empty wall.

Over the last few days of preparation, his dreams only grew more and more graphic. Some of them involved him, Tom, and _a lot_ of leather. It did not help that he was swarmed by people for almost every hour of the day. Tailors zoomed in and out, one after another, ordering him this way and that. 'Rise your arms!' 'Don't slouch!' 'Lift your leg!'. Swatches after swatches of colors were thrown at him. Cloths were tried on, then taken off, then burned, then sent to Russia with a complaint letter, and then the whole thing started all over again.

Some people were called in for a mandatory, and his case, a formality check up. All of Europe knew that he was untouched, but still, that goddamn code required that he be checked for diseases, curses, sealings, bindings, and other magical mishaps that might have made its way to his body. Considering that he'd been performing for less then a month and has yet to be sexually educated, non of this was needed, but one can never be too safe. All of his tests were clean; pure as untouched snow.

His price just sky-rocketed another hundred galleons or so.

The only thing left was the prep process, which he was not eager for.

As he mulled over the upcoming events, a slightly tipsy master vampire tripped through the door.

"'Ello 'arry!" Dea slurred. Harry resisted the urge to kill her.

"Dea," Harry smiled sweetly. "You've tested me by God knows what (he was unconscious for most of the testing), you've humiliated me, you've kept me locked up in my room from the moment I wake up, you're about to sell me to strangers, and you dare walk into my room drunk?"

Even in her disillusioned state, Dea could see the visible malice that gathered behind Harry's sweet smile and soft words.

--

A few minutes, and a painful beating later…

--

"You are fully sober now?"

"Yes…"

"Are you going to cooperate?"

"…"

"Are you?"

"…Yes…"

"Good." Harry patted off imaginary dust from his hands as he sat down rather calmly on the bed. Dea stayed where she was on the ground, nursing a rather impressive lump atop her head.

So violent.

"So tell me," Harry said, "Why that hell were you drunk? And on Veela blood no less?"

Dea sighed. She knew she wasn't going to go through the day without Harry noticing, but she had not expected him to figure it out this soon.

"It's an old friend. He'll be coming to your auction." Harry's ears flicked, the left one lower than the right, in a clear sign of question.

"You mean Tom?" his tail swished lazily about the neatly made bed.

Dea shook her head.

"I wish it was just Tom." She sighed. "This friend, acquaintance, is one from my younger days, when I ignored the Codes and just did business the sleazy way. He's a very powerful man and he's richer than Tom."

Harry shrugged. "So? There are a bunch of people who are richer and more powerful than that pervert." Dea sighed and shook her head again.

"You don't understand Harry. This man is extremely stubborn and unusually cruel. I've sold slaves to him before and all of them ended up completely broken. I'd seen one walking along the street offering themselves to random strangers for 5 knots per service."

Harry paled.

Of all of the lowlife and dead end jobs in the Underworld, freelance prostitution was the absolute worse. It was frowned upon even by the drug addicts and the whore house prostitutes.

"He's the type that likes to use, abuse, and toss. He'll keep hurting you until you break down and obey his every command. Once you've shown that he's won, he'll just throw you out on the street."

Harry fell silent.

"So he's coming tonight?" he gasped, an unconcealed tremor present in his voice.

"Yes."

Again there was silence. A few moments passed and Dea picked herself up from the floor and sat down next to Harry, gently tugging him so that his head rested on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. Bill and I will do all we can to keep him away from you." She whispered. If it was possible for a vampire to cry, she would have.

Harry simply nodded slowly and his tail came to wrap itself around both bodies. He never wanted to be claimed as merchandise, and now there was a possibility of being owned by a cruel, possibly insane man who would probably hurt him in the most horrible ways. Even as innocent as he was, Harry knew the horrors that being a freelancing prostitute brought. He'd seen many of them walk by his makeshift cardboard house before, and all of them were most likely far from ever becoming human again. They'd reverted halfway back to instinct, doing anything they could to survive. Harry even once witnessed a thin, disease ridden boy lure a drunk into an alley way under the guise of a fun night in order to fillet his flesh while the man was still buried inside him. That night, Harry's stomached was angry with hunger after prompted regurgitating what little food he had.

It was a long time ago, but the image was burned into his mind just as the stomach acids burned his throat.

He whimpered in Dea's arms and she gave him a light squeeze. This was not something she had planned. She could only hope that Devion was only bluffing. It was an empty hope, but it was still hope, and it was probably the only thing that kept her sane for the moment.

She promised herself that if Harry was indeed bought by Devion, she would instantly kill him, even if it meant dragging him down into the earth's core herself.

That was probably the only way to kill a Demigod anyway.

"Come on Harry. It's time to get ready." She whispered into his ear. It flickered slightly, and neither person moved.

* * *

Tom glared down at the piece of paper before him, hoping with all his strength that it would catch fire, which, to his absolute pleasure, did.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He was planning on an easy win; walk away without a sweat, but no! Now he had a competitor, and not just any competitor mind you. This was Devion Rezell! The most influential being in all of India. This man actually _owned_ the Nile Rive for a good century and a half before the wars started

But of course, Tom was in no way frightened of him. No! Of course not! He found powerful opponents to be an amusing pass time, but this man was indeed out of his mind. If it were a duel of wand or a duel of wits Tom was be ever so happy, but this, this was a duel of money. Tom was not at all poor, nor was he humble, but he did not like to have cash wars. He found that it was nothing more than a boring waste of time, and to top that all off, he was about to fight over the one being that he has ever wanted in his bed…EVER!

He was not going to loose to this man! He was not going to loose his little Harry to this horrible man.

He glanced again at the scorch marks left on his desk by the burnt paper, the words still clear in his mind.

'_I have no doubt in my mind that Devion plans to break Harry down then throw him out on the street. I've seen many well trained slaves – slaves that were seasoned enough to survive just about anything short of hell – fall apart at his fingertips. More than once have I found a former slave of his on the street, offering their orifices for 5 knots per round. Harry has never been trained, let alone well trained, and I'm afraid that that only makes him even more susceptible to his cruelty. I've never begged for anything in my life, but please, just this once. Please save Harry.'_

Deayva Thornbeckt was notorious for the being the most hardheaded character in the Underworld, so for her to lower herself to pleading someone; it was a sharp blow to her ego, but apparently a blow she was willing to take. Even without her plea, Tom would never allow himself to fail. Tom has heard of the cold blooded Demigod, and even he would not wish that man on his enemies, let alone a sexy, adorable little cat boy.

He was going to win this thing if it meant that he had to go bankrupt in order to do so.

* * *

After a good few minutes of crying and comforting, the hectic routine of the past few days resumed, the mindlessly annoying tasks diverting attention from the worries of the future. Harry was again shoved into dress after dress after dress while Dea watched with ill forged mirth. For the time being, they would pretend to be happy.

It was well into the after noon when all of the robes and dresses were picked out, and Harry was just about to collapse out of exhaustion.

"Not yet little kitty boy!" Dea sang, prancing around the room like a March hare on high. Harry scowled.

"What now?" He exhaled, letting his poor body fall into the nearest armchair.

"You have to bathe!" Dea waved her hand and the usually plain white door that led to the bathroom transformed into a beautiful ivory archway with silk drapes and thin chains of small glass beads blocking out the inside.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but did not complain. A bath was probably the best idea all day. Without a word, Harry slumped his way to the doorway, his tail trailing lazily behind him. Of course that all changed when he glanced at the room behind the silk.

The normally bland bathroom was replaced by a large, elegant room made of ivory and glass, accents of silver and gold lining the furniture and the décor. A large in-ground tub sat in the middle of the room, filled to the brim with bubbling, steaming water, and two small showers occupying the furthest corners of the room. A large cabinet stood open in the center of the back wall, revealing shelves upon shelves of bathing products. To the left was a sink and a counter with a wall-span mirror, and on the right was a large wooden door that probably led to a closet.

Harry proceeded to imitate the expression of an awestruck fish, and Dea nearly applauded the flawless mimicry.

"This…this is-"

"The preparation bathroom, yes." Dea finished. She pushed the dazed boy to the edge of the tub before striping him naked and gently shoving him in. Snapping out of his haze, Harry allowed himself to relax in the warmth of the water that seemed to move with a current all its own.

Smirking, Dea walked around the tub and shifted her way through the collection of little crystal bottles, picking out the ones that she knew would accentuate Harry's already appealing aroma. She selected a bottle of fresh rain for his hair with matching conditioner and a bottle of sweet lavender, along with a bottle that had no name or label.

Humming a soft tune, she began washing Harry's hair, inwardly smiling when he relaxed at her touch. It was not normal for a trade master to take such care of a slave, in fact, it was quite unfathomable how rare such an action would be, but Dea did not have the ability to think of this boy as a slave. She doubted whether or not she would be able to put a chain around his neck, let alone hand it over to a man with questionable motives. Her rhythm faltered for a second and a green eye cracked out to look at her curiously. She simply shook her head and continued.

All the while, Harry's mind was in disarray, quite the opposite of his physical state. However relaxing the massage was, he couldn't possibly forget the fact that he was about to be handed off, collar and all, to a man that he possibly did not know. To top everything off with a cherry, now there was a chance that he would be sold to a lunatic! How grand! If he was fated to become someone's property, he would much prefer it if he was treated like say, a piece of furniture. At least a couch is kept for a while.

Harry sighed, not really paying attention as he was ushered into one of the showers. He snapped out of his trance however, when sponges started whirling around him and scrubbing _everything_.

"Uh…" He raised an eyebrow as a bright pink sponge started on his back while a purple one started on his feet.

"Mandatory procedure Harry. Unless of course you'd like me to scrub for you." Harry flushed at the thought of his employer seeing him naked, oblivious to the fact that she'd already gotten quite the yummy eyeful when he was stripped and tossed into the pool. Shrugging it off, he let himself be washed. At Dea's command, the sponges dropped to the floor and the warm water washed away the suds. Harry took the time to notice that there was no temperature knob.

A fluffy white towel floated over the top of the glass door and wrapped itself around Harry's body.

Stepping out of the shower, he was quickly dusted with a glittering powder that was colorless and odorless and quickly disappeared into his skin on contact.

"It's a pheromone enhancer. It's a simple concoction that will up your attractiveness. I find that it is unneeded what with your natural deliciousness, but this will no doubt make people fall faint from nasal bleeding. Who knows, if we're lucky, a few of the bidders might die of blood loss and we'll have even less competition!" Dea explained happily. There was no doubt as to who they were both thinking of.

Harry was then quickly ushered through the doors on the right and found himself in a long closet full of everything from rings to undergarments to petticoats. It was well organized and sorted so that the women's clothing was to his right while men's clothing was to his left. There were robes in every single color and style imaginable. There were hideous magenta frilled robes, elegant dark green dress robes, black formal robes, and even robes that didn't have enough cloth on it to be considered a robe.

Without missing a moment, Dea hurried off to the section that was most likely unisexual.

"Come, come Harry! We haven't a moment to loose!" She quickly pulled robe after robe from the rack and tossing them into Harry's arms until he was sure the section was empty. Of course when he peak around his mass of cloth, it was still unbelievably full. After thirty minutes and a set of very sore arms later, Harry was ushered into a small room at the back of the closet to try everything on, though it was not at all like the previous selection processes.

In the past few days, he would be changing from outfit to outfit so frequently that his skin felt like it would peel off with the next layer he had to strip, but this times, the cloths were poof-ed on and off of him with soft pops and a little bit of a tingle. He simple stood there with his arms out and turned around whenever he was ordered too. All of the rejected outfits zoomed back to the racks after hanging themselves up. All of the acceptable outfits floated just over Harry's head until Dea decided to call one down for comparison.

By the end of the hour, most of the pile was gone and Harry's skin felt rather numb. There were only three outfits left to choose from, and Harry hated them all. One was an _extremely_ short, white silk robe that ended right underneath Harry's buttocks. It had beautiful silver swirls that were abundant at the end of the robe and the billowing sleeves, but lessened as it traveled upwards. The neck area was made of a translucent material that ended right underneath the collar bone and encircled his shoulders.

The second robe was longer, but it was also thinner. It was made of a semi-translucent black cloth that was just dark enough to be considered light censorship and small, black velvet flowers blossom at random points on the robe, just enough so that his important areas were covered.

The last one was indeed the worst of them all. It was a see-through emerald green robe that covered **nothing**. It was so light that Harry could barely feel it on his skin. It was a tad bit longer than the first one, but shorter than the second one, ending about mid-thigh. Two slits ran from the end of the robe to his hips on either side, which revealed far too much skin when he moved. The sleeves were long and billowing at the ends with small, silvery snakes constantly moving silently through the fabric. Underneath each robe Harry was to wear a small black thong…and that's it.

All of them screamed '_FUCK ME'_ out loud and in red.

None of them gave Harry a sense of comfort.

Harry was really starting hate Dea…

A lot.

* * *

**Ending Notes**: So. Anyone like it?

Which by-the-by, You can **VOTE** for your favorite outfit. Please do vote and tell me what you think.

Now click button.


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